


Fam Squad

by Maraculate



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Comedy, Cooking, Everyone but jeremy and michael and the kids are just mentioned, Family Fluff, Fluff, Jeremy Heere Is a Furry, Joe is Mr. heere's name, Light Angst, Like for two paragraphs, M/M, Married Couple, Michael is a Little Shit, Nothing major though, That's it, lol, lying, they have children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 20:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15714726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maraculate/pseuds/Maraculate
Summary: A moment in the life of the Mell-Heere household. Jeremy's an actor and Michael's a videogame designer.





	Fam Squad

**Author's Note:**

> This was based off some comic I found on Instagram that I can't find and it really bugs me, but oh well.
> 
> Edit: Crazygalcomics on instagram is the name!

“Okay, let’s see if I got this ‘cooking’ skill down,” Jeremy muttered under his breath. He hadn’t shaved in a while, but Jeremy kind of liked having the hair on his face. It made him look older (which he should be since he just turned thirty).

 

“Oh, honey, I’m home! My actions per minute have been significantly decreased due to exhaustion, and so, I require sustenance!” Michael shouted.

 

“Shut the f-heck up!” Jeremy caught himself. He was trying to put a lid on his cursing these days. Part of being a responsible adult, he guessed. “We’re having mac ‘n’ cheese. The food of the Gods.”

 

“Why are you sifting vegetables into it?” Michael asked. “You pulling a broccoli in brownies thing?” Michael asked.

 

Jeremy smirked and faced Michael. He held a spatula in one hand, Michael’s ‘Kiss the Creep’ smock, and an (awkward) pair of blue shorts. He had a pair of glasses on, too. Eyesight decided to fail him a few years ago, and he got a passive debuff in the form of being legally blind.

 

“I put vegetables into almost all my dinners. I’m making our children grow up to be healthy by giving them their greens. That’s how we help children, including you! By lying.” Jeremy went back to finishing up.

 

“Oh, so I guess my efforts were in vain,” Michael sighed. He slipped off his tie and suit.

 

“Wait, what?” Jeremy asked.

 

“Let me go change,” Michael waved him off. Jeremy frowned while spooning out their dinner and putting into a large bowl.

 

“Okay, explain which efforts have been in vain because I am confusion.” Jeremy’s accent went unnaturally thick on those last three words.

 

“I’ve been slipping vegetables in your pancakes since before you started at your first official acting role,” Michael admitted.

 

The gears in Jeremy’s head nearly stopped. “Wait, what?”

 

“Yeah, you know those maple seeds in the syrup?”

 

“Yeah, they tasted really good. Why don’t more syrups have them?”

 

“Oh, babe, no syrup has maple seeds. Those were vegetables,” Michael sighed. “It was a healthier syrup anyway, so that was good, too. I’m glad you liked the vegetables in your pancakes, honey.”

 

“You’ve been lying for me about the seeds for **FIVE YEARS**?” Jeremy screeched.

 

“You didn’t figure it out before the first month?”

 

Jeremy spluttered and his face burned up. He looked for something to say in retort to that as Michael stood there, amused, while in his favorite hoodie (the same hoodie from years ago that he had constantly gotten enlarged and sewed back together that still looks pretty new, somehow).

 

“Children!” Jeremy summoned them. He directed all of his volume towards the living room where they were watching ‘Teen Titans’. The good one.

 

“Yeah, dad?” Joe Richard Mell-Heere shouted first. He was eight, and they decided that Mr. Heere and Rich would get their names passed down for their boy. Jake didn’t really care, so that was good.

 

“What is it, dad?” Christine Brooke Mell-Heere wondered. She was eleven. Chloe and Jenna didn’t want their names passed down, but Christine and Brooke were ready to maim each other for the right to their girl’s first name. Ultimately, they played a game of Jenga that Brooke lost and Christine got first-name privileges.

 

“Your papa is home, so I give you both full permission to attack him!”

 

The kids scampered and their approaching footsteps gave the two adults Ratatouille vibes. Remember the mice scattering in the kitchen? Imagine that scene but the rats were heading towards one target. Or like Ramsay Bolton’s army circling against Jon Snow’s in season six.

 

Michael cackled as his children tackle-hugged him and tickled him incessantly. The little mongrels smiled and cheered as they brought their papa to the floor.

 

“Alright, I think he’s been punished enough,” Jeremy huffed after a few minutes passed. “We’re having mac ‘n’ cheese.”

 

“We heard your conversation, dad. We’ve known about the vegetables beforehand, too.” Christine gave him a devilish chuckle. Joe just nodded along. Jeremy’s face lost its color.

 

“They taste good, but you didn’t have to be a liar!” Joe piped up.

 

“Yeah, Jeremy!” Michael said from the floor.

 

“Just eat your meal. If you don’t bring this up for the rest of the day, I’ll buy you ice cream from Tastyland tomorrow,” Jeremy facepalmed.

 

“Done,” Christine and Joe replied immediately.

 

Michael snuck up from behind Jeremy, wrapped his arms around his waist like an enlarged parasite, and kissed his cheek. “I’m sure the food is excellent,” he whispered. “Well, no. I lied. It’s probably disgusting.”

 

Jeremy sighed and toyed with the ring on Michael’s finger. Michael kissed his neck and Jeremy bolted out of his grasp. “Not in front of the kids,” he mouthed. Jeremy made sure they were wolfing down their dinner before giving a sharp glare to his husband.

 

With hands high in the air, Michael went to his seat and scarfed down the mac ‘n’ cheese. “Oh, man, Gordon Ramsay would be proud!”

 

“This squid is so raw that I can still hear it telling Spongebob to fuck off!” Joe piped up.

 

Stunned silence filled the kitchen table. Christine and Michael started cackling at the same time while Jeremy stood in place, paralyzed. “Did you let him watch Hell’s Kitchen?” Jeremy was about to hit Michael over the head with the frying pan.

 

“Joe, you can’t say that word in this house,” Michael tried and failed to hide his laughter.

 

“Squid?” He tilted his head. Jeremy snorted and quickly covered it up with a cough.

 

“No, the word that starts with ‘f’. It’s a bad word,” Michael explained.

 

“Oh… what about that one time dad screamed it in your bedroom?” Joe wondered. Christine covered her mouth and started choking on her food.

 

“Alright, Michael. You’re sleeping in your own room tonight.”

 

“I don’t have my own room! Besides, that was your own fault!”

 

“Exactly. You’re grounded. You’re on the couch tonight. And no kisses or hugs for the rest of the day.”

 

“I don’t want your furry germs anyway!” Michael huffed.

 

“What’s a furry?” Joe asked. Christine cackled again and had to hold up a hand she was wheezing so hard.

 

“Stop, I’m about to die!” She covered her stomach. “My sides!”

 

“Okay. Michael, you’re definitely grounded. To the couch, and no video games.”

 

“Aw, Jere?” Michael pouted. Jeremy crossed his arms and stared him down.

 

“You’re not getting a _poke_ from me until the morning.”

 

With an indignant look on his face, Michael realized his husband was not kidding. He stomped to the couch and huffed.

 

Joe ran out of his seat when he was done and into the living room. He jumped onto his papa’s lap.

 

“Is dad mad at you?” He tilted his head.

 

“He’s not really mad. He just doesn’t want me being a bad influence on you kids. That’s all.” Michael ruffled his hair. Joe looked a lot like Jeremy when he was younger except with a bit of a darker complexion. Christine had tanner skin than he did and she looked like their friend with her short dark hair and chubby cheeks.

 

“My friends told me that when parents fight, it’s a bad thing and that one of them goes away.”

 

“They’re just messin’ with you, okay? It’ll take a lot more than some choice words and lying about vegetables to make one of us leave,” Michael promised. He rocked his child and looked at the doorway where Jeremy was. He looked a bit worried, but Michael just flashed him a million dollar smile.

 

“You ever going to explain those words to him?” Christine wondered.

 

“No, and you’re not either. I will ground you if you tell him about those words. In fact, how do you even know about furries?”

 

“One of the kids in my grade talks about animals in that way… a lot,” she cringed.

 

Jeremy didn’t want to press further. He felt really bad for her, and that look on her face was practically identical to when Jeremy first learned what furries were at age nine.

 

Fast-forward a few hours later, the kids were in bed and Michael was snoring on the couch. A few minutes after midnight, a lump crawled on the couch and laid his head on Michael’s chest.

 

His eyes fluttered open, but he could feel Jeremy’s beard on his bare chest. “Hey. What happened to not seeing me until morning?” A smirk adorned his face.

 

“It’s morning. I forgot how annoying it is to sleep with you, so that’s all I’m here for. Using you to sleep better.”

 

Michael let out a bark of laughter and readjusted. He leaned forward to kiss Jeremy’s head and the man over him groaned.

 

“Love you, you leech.”

 

“Very romantic, Michael. Almost as romantic as those vegetables you slipped into my pancakes.”

 

“Are you going to be a baby about this forever?”

 

“Watch me.”

 

“That’s fine. I promised to be with you forever,” Michael murmured.

 

“You don’t have to get sappy on me. Not like you,” Jeremy replied sleepily.

 

“Sometimes, I just like seeing you flustered and giddy when I say something sweet. It’s cute. Now, stop talking, love.”

 

Jeremy shrugged and listened.

**Author's Note:**

> When I think ice cream I keep thinking of Tastyland so I'm probably going to end up reference Heereandqueere's fanfiction in every one of mine.


End file.
